


Seven Martinis

by LovisaCansino



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance, you know there's a happy ending right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovisaCansino/pseuds/LovisaCansino
Summary: She was her friend, her roommate, her business partner. But a month from now, when Frankie was finally settled in Santa Fe with her boyfriend, Grace doubted she would be any of those things.





	1. Part One

The bottom line was, there was nothing she could do. It was beyond her control. And if there was one thing Grace Hanson was not used to was not being in control. It frightened her, it made her chest hurt and her stomach clench and it made her feel like the last two years had meant nothing. Everything she had gone through - the getting over the fact her husband had been in a gay love affair with his work partner for 20 years, the divorce, rebuilding her life, the new business - seemed empty now. Because Frankie was leaving.  
  
Part of her wanted to snort at the thought. She didn't need Frankie, the same way she never needed Robert, or anyone else, for that matter. But another part of her, a much bigger part of her, one that only pretended to hate it when her gray-haired roommate climbed into bed with her and sang Jefferson Airplane songs in her sleep, that part of her knew that without Frankie, nothing really made that much sense. After all, the two of them had been stuck together from the very beginning. Even when she still hated Frankie - because she had to admit it, at one point, not that long ago, she really did -, she couldn't deny that she was the only one that could understand the unique predicament they had found themselves in after their husbands decided to come out. Frankie had been there for everything. For every single change, big or small, she had been the witness, the cheerleader, sometimes even the voice of reason. She would have drowned herself in vodka by now if it wasn't for Frankie. Vybrant wouldn't exist if it wasn't Frankie. Hell, sometimes she thought _she_ wouldn't exist if it wasn't for Frankie.

She couldn't say anything, really. She was, in a way, happy for her friend. She had found love again after heartbreak - Frankie had actually, Grace needed to remind herself constantly, been in love with her former husband, after all. Jacob made Frankie happy and in the end, it was all that mattered, wasn't it? He was who Frankie was supposed to be with. Not in a beach house packing vibrators. Not watching Ray Donovan with someone who hasn't quite figured out yet where they stand with Liev Schreiber. Not with someone who was a bitch to her kids, who undermined her, who hurt her even when she didn't want to, even when it was the last thing she wanted. Not with Grace. In Santa Fe, with her farmer. That's where Frankie belonged.

Grace knew that. Everyone knew that. But as she downed her sixth martini of the evening, she realized that there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to drown out the little voice in the back of her mind that kept repeating _but what about me?_

If Frankie left, what would become of her? What would become of them? Their whole dynamic, the one they had spent the past two years building, would be completely off. What about Christmas? Would she be here for it? Who would remind Grace to buy something for Sol, or be there to tell her that she'd given that exact same tie to Robert on his birthday? Who would let her know when she was overdressed, or when she wasn't making enough food for dinner because "Shark Tank is on tonight and you know I'm always hungry after that much excitement"? Who would listen to her vent after she ran into one of her insufferable country club "friends"? Who would she complain about buying Del Taco for? Without Frankie, would there even _be_ a reason to buy Del Taco?

She couldn't go through it again. Leaving Robert, the house they lived in, adjusting to being by herself, _finding_ herself again after that marriage, that was a piece of cake compared to what she would have to go through after Frankie left. A house without Robert she had been used to, her whole relationship with him had been about dealing with his absence. But a house without Frankie, a life without Frankie? She didn't think she could do that. For the life of her, she couldn't even remember how it was like before her.

 _Well, you better get used to it now_ , she said bitterly. It was almost 11 pm and Frankie certainly wasn't planning on coming home. She was, of course, with Jacob, probably making a pinterest board of all the stupid-looking lamps and pillows they would buy for their new house. There would be a lot of phallic shaped items in the living room, of that Grace was sure. There would certainly be more dream catchers than anyone should be comfortable with. It would be fucking hippie paradise.

And it would make Frankie happy. Which was something that Grace, apparently, couldn't do. No matter that she had done evertyhing she could to accomodate Frankie's little idiosyncrasies - she even let the woman sleep in her bed, for Christ's sake! -, it just wasn't enough. She wasn't enough. Simply because she wasn't Jacob, and she couldn't give Frankie what Jacob could, and did.

Not for lack of wanting. If she had a penny for each time she had gotten lost in Frankie's eyes or failed to understand what she was saying because she was a bit too interested in her lips and they could do... She didn't know exactly how or when it happened, but suddenly, the things she hated the most in Frankie became the things that endeared the woman to her (honestly, was there anything _cuter_ than putting gummy worms in salad?). Sometimes Frankie did or said something, something of no real significance, but something that was so _inherently Frankie_ that Grace was hit with a wave of love and affection that was so strong she didn't know if it made her want to laugh, cry, or hug the woman in question.

The irony of falling in love with her ex-husband's husband's ex-wife wasn't lost on her. The irony of turning gay in her 70s after she gave Robert such hell about it wasn't, either. Unfortunately, she would be the only one to appreciate it, since there would be no telling anyone about her new-found feelings for Frankie. Not only because she was afraid (of so many things, of hurting Frankie, of making Frankie happy, of rejection, of her family, of the world, of everything), but because who was she to ruin Frankie's happiness?

She was her friend, her roommate, her business partner. But a month from now, when Frankie was settled in Santa Fe with her boyfriend, Grace doubted she would be any of those things.

 _How dare she?_ , Grace thought, suddenly angry. How dare she take down, brick by brick, the life they had so painstakingly built together? How dare she run over everything they had, so carelessly, without a thought spared to the one who would be left in the ruins to pick up the pieces? How dare she be so selfish?

 _I thought I had a monopoly on that,_ she laughed sardonically. A little voice in her mind told her she should stop drinking and go to bed. She mixed her seventh martini, extra strong, just to shut that voice up. It worked, but it also made her reach for her phone and dial a very familiar number. Frankie's ridiculous greeting message was barely over when she started screaming her irrational thoughts into the phone.


	2. Chapter Two

_I just think you deserve to be happy_ , Sol had said once.

 _I_ am _happy. I've got Vybrant, I've got Frankie, who finally has gotten over her fear of the garbage disposal. This is enough for me._

It was so much more than just enough.

**X**

She falls asleep right after leaving the message on Frankie's phone. Maybe is the alcohol, maybe is the emotional exhaustion. And when she wakes up at 7am because the patio doors are open and she slept on the couch and the sunlight shines on her face so strongly it actually hurts, she hasn't forgotten what she'd done the previous night. She closes her eyes again, tight, hoping that when she opens them her memory is wiped clean. But she still remembers. Not the actual words, thank God for small favours, but she knows exactly what she did. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't right. She's scared now, even more scared than before. She doesn't want to face Frankie when she comes back, _if_ she comes back. She knows she should run to her room and hide.

But she stays on the couch, back and neck and hips aching, sunlight shining on her face so strongly it hurts, and she welcomes the pain, all of them, from her body muscles to the remote control that digs into her arm, thanks the heavens above she can still fell the neck ache and the hips screaming and the light so strong it could burn her, thanks the heavens above she can still _feel_.

**X**

She has never been enough. For anybody. She remembers Victor, her first boyfriend. How he had told her, over and over again, how lucky she was to have him, because who else would put up with someone as boring, as bitchy and as fat as her? How he had cheated on her, over and over again, and had always made her forgive him because could she blame him, really, for wanting something better, something more?

Victor hadn't been the first, though. Her mother and father went their separate ways when she was four years old and it wasn't long until daddy married again and took his new wife and daughter to live somewhere in Ohio. Mom stayed around for two more years, but then she married Mark and if there was one thing Mark couldn't stand was kids. So she lived with grandma. Mom came around often, taking her to the park and to get ice cream on weekends, but Grace was almost seventeen when she heard from dad again, and that had been a disaster. He had sent a card when she got into college and another when she got married. He died before her first daughter was born. She didn't go to his funeral. She sometimes forgets she has a sister.

Things with mom went south too, after she had the twins with Mark. That's when Grace realized there was no place for her in her mother's new life. It became painful to spend the weekend at her place and see the way she interacted with the twins - how she dressed them, fed them, corrected their homework, how they had their little inside jokes and memories Grace was not privy to because she was an outsider. She was nobody's daughter.

Grandma was a saint, Grace knows that now. At the time, though, she didn't appreciate how hard it had been for the woman, to take on a child when she was almost 60. She wasn't your average granny. She was mother and father to Grace, and as such, couldn't afford to spoil her or coddle her or protect her from the outside world - she had never tried to hide from the girl just how deplorable human beings could be, and for that she was grateful (if it hadn't been for grandma, for the ideas she didn't even realize were ahead of their time, Grace probably wouldn't have thought much of that time when she was 14 and her uncle "accidentally" touched her breast). Because of her, Grace had grown up to be good. Yes, she was uptight, and yes, she did have issues with intimacy - but really, she could count on one hand the amount of times grandma had shown any kind of affection towards her or congratulated her for a job well done (she struggled with math her whole life and she will never forget when she was 12 and stayed up all night studying for a test and got an A for it and she was oh so happy and she showed it to grandma but grandma just asked her why the A wasn't an A+). But she could have turned out much, much worse. She was grateful. It was easier to be grateful now that grandma was gone and their problems were long forgotten and only the good times remained (the memory of the fact is always better than the fact itself).

After Victor, there was Robert, and by then grandma wasn't around anymore and she hadn't seen dad in so long she had forgotten what he looked like and mom was there but wasn't because one of the twins was sick so she had to focus on that. And it was the early 1970s and Grace felt out of place everywhere she went (an outsider, nobody's daughter, nobody's anything) and when Robert proposed to her it felt like he was throwing her a lifeline. _Here, I'll save you_ , he seemed to be saying, _we'll create a place that you'll feel comfortable in._ Except he _wasn't_ saying that and what followed were decades of her not truly belonging anywhere and pretending she did and dressing up like the women around her until she felt like the women around her (fake it 'til you make it) and realizing that for her to truly be like her country club friends she had to shut down the part of her that actually _felt_ things, so she did just that, and that was easy and it was good and why the hell hadn't she done that before now? And then she had kids and she thought she could raise daughters but the only mother she had ever had was grandma and she was a tough woman, sometimes too tough, and she found herself doing and saying to Brianna and Mallory things she swore herself she would never do or say because she remembers being a kid and remembers how much those things hurt but she can't seem to stop herself and now she doesn't know who she is anymore (she doesn't think she has ever known) and her daughters are paying the price.

Then came the dinner that changed everything, the gaymaggeddon. Robert told her the marriage had been a lie and she was furious and hurt and she couldn't breathe but at the same time she was breathing just fine because it _hadn't_ been a lie, they knew exactly what it was and it had never, never been a marriage, she thought it could have been her lifeline but it wasn't because it had never been enough, she had never been enough, she was never enough. So she drank more and more, trying to ignore the voice in her heard that kept telling her she wasn't even surprised and that what hurt her more was that Robert had dared to look for something better, something more than just enough, and she wasn't it. She was never it.

She was never enough.

**X**

If she wanted to keep the beach house, she had to keep Frankie. It was a simple as that. And, honestly, a part of her was relieved she wasn't going through this completely alone. There was, like Mallory said there'd be, a group for wives in their 70s whose husbands left them for other men - it was just that that group consisted only of Frankie.

So they became roommates, then friends, then good friends, then friends that woke each other in the middle of the night to talk about men, then business partners, then friends who occasionally slept in each other's beds. And it was enough.

For once in her life, it was enough. It was more than enough, but she didn't dare say how much more than just enough it really was for fear of jinxing it. But she honestly felt like she was enough and it was a beautiful feeling. And it lasted about six months.

**X**

The light from the sun has surely burned her face a little by now and she thinks she's been laying there for hours, but she can't move. She lifts her hand up and examines the spots and wrinkles and lines that she couldn't get rid of no matter how much lotion she put on them. She uses her old hand to touch her old face and feel the years and suddenly she's blind, she can't see the living room anymore, she can only see the pain and the love and the loss and Victor telling her she wasn't pretty and dad's car as he drove away and grandma pinching her side to get her to sit straighter and Brianna's face as she was told she couldn't have a second piece of cake at her own birthday party and now it isn't her hand touching her face anymore, is Frankie's, and Frankie is there and she is wiping the tears away and Grace sees her and it takes her almost a full minute to realize she isn't an hallucination.

Frankie's home.

Frankie is back and Grace knows she listened to the message and they need to talk about it but all she can think about is how soft Frankie's hands are and how she wishes the other woman would touch her again.

But Frankie doesn't. Instead, she sits on the floor in front of the couch and takes in Grace's position, raises an eyebrow as if to say _did you sleep like this_ and seems to know that everything in her body hurts.

"Good morning", Grace says, and it's a stupid thing to say but she can't think of anything else.

Frankie opens her mouth and closes it, does it a few times, looks like a fish out of water and Grace wants to laugh. But then Frankie says, "What the fuck, Grace?", but she doesn't sound angry, she just sounds hurt and that is so, so much worse.

"I'm sorry", Grace says, and it seems she's been saying that a lot these days. She doesn't know what she is apologizing for - for sleeping on the couch, for getting drunk the night before, for leaving that message, for having feelings for her best friend? And now she's stuck, because she doesn't know where they could go from here. She doesn't know what she should say, or what Frankie is gonna say next, or what's going to happen tomorrow and it scares the _shit_ out of her and she feels alone even though Frankie is right there.

**X**

_"And, honestly, you've got some nerve thinking you can just pack up and leave! Seriously, Frankie? Seriously? Is this your idea of a prank? You had no right, no right to become my best friend and then leave me like this. I didn't want to be your friend, remember? But now I am, and it's your fault and you decided, what, you decided that it wasn't enough for you and now you're moving to Santa Fe?_ Fucking _Santa Fe, Frankie?"_

Grace's words are slurred and she is talking much too fast and Frankie thinks she nows exactly how many martinis her friend had before making the call. She could just picture her, glass in one hand, mascara smudged, pacing up and down the living room as she screamed into the phone. She wanted to smile at the thought.

She has listened to the message four times now. Jacob always wakes up at the crack of dawn to tend to the farm and she's usually more than happy to assist him, but she noticed the notification on her phone that said she had a voicemail from Grace and she stayed in bed to listen to it. She wasn't expecting this.

_"I thought we were in this together! Or were you just with me until something better came along? For fuck's sake, Frankie. How the hell could you do this to me? Don't you know? Don't you know how much I love you? I need you here, damn it. You made me think you would stay. You made me believe it, Frankie. How the hell could you do this to me?"_

It's always in that moment, right when Grace says _you made me believe it_ , that her voice breaks and she isn't screaming anymore and Frankie knows she's crying. She can't help but cry too. She had no idea. She hates herself a little bit for being so caught up in her little romance that she couldn't even notice how broken her best friend was.

 _"You know what I thought? I thought, I actually thought, it was you and me. I thought that on the weekends we could have Mallory's kids over, and Bud's baby, and they would be happy because they were going to see their grandmas. How fucking stupid was that? Now we won't be Grandmas Grace and Frankie, will we? Not together. And in this little stupid fantasy I was actually good with kids!"_ she laughs a little here, that dry, sarcastically laugh Frankie hates. But then she breaks again and Frankie thinks she would rather hear her mean laugh a hundred times than hear her sounding so defeated.

 _"Don't make me do this, Frankie. Being without you... It changes everything. Everything. You can't leave. There's so much more for us to do. Remember when you said you would take me to Burning Man someday? You haven't done that. I don't wanna go, not really, but I want you to take me there. And I want to take you to that restaurant we heard about, remember, the one that has burgers named after each member of the Ramones? And we don't have chickens, Frankie, not yet, but I swear we can get as many as you want and give them stupid names and I'll remember every single name, Frankie, I promise"_ , and here Grace's words get even more slurred and Frankie can't make out what she says - she's certain there are a few more _I promises_ in there and maybe a couple of _I'm sorrys_ \- and then she is cut off.

And Frankie listen to the message three more times before getting out of bed and back home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties and made up Grace's whole backstory. Also, this story took a turn and now I don't know how many chapters there will be anymore, but hopefully you won't have to wait long for them! I plan on posting more soon. By the way, I'm accepting requests for other stories - which is my way of saying PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS - because I would like to write fluffy little pieces in between chapters of this sad, angsty thing, but I don't have any plot ideas. So please help!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the format of this chapter isn't too confusing. It goes back and forth between Frankie driving and arriving home.

**it was supposed to be a love song**   
**it was love in verses**   
**it was supposed to be about you and me and my desert**   
**it was supposed to be for you, always you, forever**   
**it was supposed to remain eternally in the present**

**X**

Frankie can't stop thinking about the chickens as she makes her way back to the beach house (home, she reminds herself). Grace had said they could get chickens. Not only that, she had also said they could give them strange names and she would remember each one. Of all the things Grace said in the message, the chickens stood out (Burning Man too, but ticket sales didn't start until the next month so that could wait). Grace hates chickens. Grace had emphatically said, on more than one occasion, that she would move out if she ever suspected Frankie had smuggled any chickens into the house. But Grace was willing to get chickens if it meant Frankie stayed.

 _She would do it for me,_ she thought, as she drove away from the farm, away from Jacob. _She would do anything for me_ , and it's that realization that starts her tears again. What was she doing? What the hell was she doing?

**X**

Frankie had known love. True love, unconditional love. Her whole life, it seems, had been about love. Being an only child, she was the center of her parents' existence and doted upon by four grandparents. She was friends with every kid that lived within a two-mile radius from her house and everyone in school seemed to know her name. She had had boyfriends and then Sol and then Bud and then Coyote. In high school, she had been the History teacher's pet - she had won Frankie over with her liberal ideas and radical views. Even the way Ms. Wagner dressed was odd and eccentric ( _eccentric is what people call something they don't understand,_ she remembers dad saying once), like she didn't care about fitting in. She was a breath of fresh air. She seemed _free_. And teenager Frances Mangela wanted to be just like her.

Ms. Wagner was the first in a long string of women Frankie had looked up to in her life. There had been Mrs. Flowers, the librarian, who was so well-read she knew virtually every single important author in the world - but honestly, Frankie liked her because of the way her eyes narrowed in anger as she called for silence in the room. There had been Janet, her best friend, who wanted to be a writer and travel the world and stay single until she was 40 and then marry a man from an exotic place like Thailand or Florida. There had been Lucille, who could play soccer better than any boy she'd known, and Mrs. Walsh, who stood so impossibly erect and dressed so perfectly she put Grace Kelly to shame, and Mrs. Bergstein, who had the warmest hug and baked the best apple pie she had ever tasted. There had been Babe, with her unique views on living and love and loss and faith, and Brianna, who had grown up to be such a strong woman, and Mallory, who was raising four kids on her own. And then there was Grace.

She had been jealous of Grace when they first met. Not because of her beauty or style or anything like that, but because she had daughters. Frankie had always wanted a daughter, even before she knew she wanted kids. A daughter to dress and raise and teach to be a little troublemaker and carve her place in the world and stand up for herself and shatter glass ceilings (getting over the end of marriage had been a piece of cake compared to the dilemma she was faced with in the Democratic primaries of 2016 - she had never forgiven herself and still suspects, to this day, Hillary's loss in the election had had something to do with her pushing Bernie's name on that first ballot). But jealousy turned into anger when she realized how little Grace actually seemed to care for her daughters. Sure, she cared about how they looked and how they behaved, but that was about it. Frankie had been the one to introduce Brianna to Frida Kahlo and Maya Angelou and Simone de Beauvoir and Eleanor Roosevelt and Marie Curie and Oprah. She was glad then, in a way, that Grace didn't have enough time for her kids.

And then it happened. _Gaymageddon_ , that's how Grace likes to call it, she thinks fondly. And suddenly they were forced together and the woman she spent decades thinking of as cold and unattached blossomed into one of the most caring, tough, _wonderful_ people she had ever met. And Frankie loved her so much it hurt.

**X**

She doesn't know what to say when she walks home and sees Grace on the couch, a dazed look on her face. She wants to talk about the voicemail, about Santa Fe, about them, about so many things that couldn't possibly be said like this - it's 7 am, it's a Tuesday, she hasn't had her coffee yet and she is scared one wrong move could ruin it all beyond repair.

"Good morning", Grace says, and her voice is raspy and her eyes glassy and her hair is everywhere and she looks terrible. And Frankie wants to reach out, take care of her, hold her, tell her it's alright, she is alright, she is going to be alright.

**X**

_I thought we were in this together! Or were you just with me until something better came along? For fuck's sake, Frankie. How the hell could you do this to me?_

As she drives home, snippets of the last two years replay in her head, how the two women went from hating each other to tolerating to liking to loving. She can't imagine her life without Grace Hanson. She can't go to Santa Fe. What had she been thinking?

"You never do, that's your problem", she remembers Grace saying one night, about a month ago.

"I like to think it's part of my charm", she smiled back.

"Oh, yes, it's very charming when I'm imagining all the ways I could murder you and get away with it", Grace answered, her smile betraying her.

They had been fighting (not really fighting, they don't really fight these days - unless when Grace says the wrong thing, which is no more than once a week now) about something or other, she can't really remember.

"Look, Grace, you're missing the point here"

"Which is..."

"That Burt Bacharach song would be so much better if it were 'gumdrops' instead of 'raindrops'"

Grace had just looked at her, somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Sure it would, Frankie"

She had laughed and skipped to the kitchen, singing _gumdrops keep falling on my head_ as she went.

_You know what I thought? I thought, I actually thought, it was you and me._

"You know what I hate?"

"That this is not a nudist beach?" Grace answered.

"That too, obviously. But that's not what I'm hating right this moment"

"What are you hating right this moment, Frankie?"

"Noel Gallagher's existence"

"Who?"

"Noel Gallagher. You know, Liam's brother. Oasis"

"Ah. Why do you hate him?"

"Do I really need to expand on that, Grace? Really?"

"No, of course you don't", she answered, but it was only for Frankie's sake. She appreciated that.

"You know what really feel like right now?"

"Ice cream tacos?"

"Grace Hanson, you are the love of my life"

They had both laughed.

_Don't make me do this, Frankie. Being without you... It changes everything. Everything._

_"_ Don't even think about it, Frankie"

"But, Grace..."

"No"

"Please?"

"No. My nails will turn yellow, they can't handle anything darker than pink"

"No, they won't, I promise! This nail polish is vegan"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Please? Pretty please? I won't eat Del Taco for a week"

"A whole week?"

"Yes"

"You promise?"

"I promise! With a kiss and everything"

"No kiss, just... Why don't you paint your own nails?"

"Oh, but your hands are much prettier than mine, Grace"

And that's how Grace Hanson ended up with nails painted dark blue with _glitter_  ( _it's supposed to be a galaxy_ , Frankie had said).

_You can't leave. There's so much more for us to do._

**X**

"What the fuck, Grace?", is the only thing she manages to say.

"I'm sorry", Grace answers almost immediately. Here, on the couch, in their home, early morning, Grace looks so lost Frankie can't stand it. She doesn't know what the other woman is apologizing for but it doesn't matter - she is sorry too. Sorry that she even considered leaving, sorry for not seeing that her friend needed help, sorry for not knowing herself well enough to realize that there was _no Frankie without Grace._

And she wants to reach out and hold Grace but she doesn't because she doesn't know what this is anymore. She doesn't know how she feels or how Grace feels or what they should do _(one wrong move could ruin it all beyond repair)_ and she doesn't think she's ready for any moves at all. 

But she is here. That much she knows. She is right here. There is no other place she should be.

There are four missed (ignored) calls from Jacob on her phone.

"Grace", she begins. Is that what they are supposed to be? Is that what their life is supposed to be like? Living together, growing old together, as friends, as business partners? She doesn't have enough time to think, because Grace interrupts her as she looks more awake than ever.

"You should go to Santa Fe, Frankie"

**X**

**it was supposed to be a love song**   
**it was love in verse**   
**it was supposed to be about you and me and my desert**   
**it was supposed to be for you, always you, forever**   
**it was supposed to remain eternally in the present**

**but love blew from the other side**   
**to knock over all that was there**   
**and now I have to tell you**   
**that this song it's not about us anymore**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go! In the meantime, I'm accepting suggestions for one-shots (help me procrastinate my daily responsibilities please and thank you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Grace & Frankie piece, I hope you liked it! Next chapter should be up soon.


End file.
